She did not look at the boy's sullen face. She felt a sudden pity for the man who was poor and in charge of the spoilt rich little boy. She felt sorry for all those who were poor and must pander to the rich.
"Thank you," she said to Raoul, "for showing me the way down."
His face brightened. He seemed to have recovered from his sullen-ness. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle. / shall look for you to-morrow."
"Then goodbye. Au revoir. 9 *
She hurried on, making her way rapidly until she came to Plaidy beach, where she left the shore and scrambled up the steep path away from the sea.
She heard a laugh and her name was being called.
She recognized Fermor's voice.
"Who was the friend?" he called, sauntering towards her.
"Friend?"
"I'll tell you right away. I saw the encounter. I heard you were going to the Pennifields and came to meet you. I was at the top of the cliffs and saw you with your friends."
She felt that mingling of pleasure and apprehension which being alone with him could not fail to bring.
He had come very close. "You look as though you think I'm one of the gorgons and about to turn you to stone."
She stepped backwards and said quickly: "It is so strange that they should be French, and that I should have met them like that."
"How did it happen?"
"I was going down the cliff and found it rather difficult. The little boy came out of a cave in which he was playing bandits. He helped me down."
"And took you to Papa?"
"It is not his father—a second cousin."
"You've quickly become acquainted with the family tree. You enjoyed the company of the second cousin."
"You have very good eyes."
"My eyes are as those of a hawk . . . where you are concerned."
"You make me feel like a field mouse waiting for the swooping. You should not have such ideas. I am not to be seized and carried off by a hawk. Now I must hurry back to the house. I am late."
"You spent too much time with your new friends, little field mouse. Perhaps I should say shrew mouse. You are becoming shrewish."
"It is good that you think so. Field mice are poor pretty things; but shrew mice are not so pretty. Perhaps they are not so well liked by hawks."
"They are even more popular. And did you know that the best sort of hawks are noted for their patience?"
"Are you still thinking of that offer you made me?"
"I have never ceased to think of it."
"What . . . even now . . . with your wedding day fixed!"
"It is a thing apart from weddings."
"You have made that very clear to me. I wonder if you have explained to Caroline also?"
"You must not be a silly little shrew mouse. You must be grownup. Of course Caroline knows nothing of it."
"What if I told her? If you ever try to see me alone again I will tell her."
"What!" he said lightly. "Blackmail?"
"You are the wickedest person I have ever met in the whole of my life. I did not know anyone could be so wicked."
"Then it is time you learned. You could reform me, you know. Now, there is a task for you. If you will love me—if you admit you love me, for of course you love me—you will see how charming I am . . . how good, how tender, how devoted."
"I wish to hurry back."
"Do you imagine I cannot keep pace with you?"
"I would rather be alone."
"But I would rather be with you."
"Do you never do what others want ? Is it always what you want ?"
"Well, what about yourself? Are you doing what others want? Now if you were as unselfish as you would like me to be, you would say: 'Well, I know I shouldn't, but because he wants me so much I must please him. That would be unselfish, and I am so good, so kind—in fact such a little martyr, that I must sacrifice myself since my own desires count for nothing.' "
"You twist everything. You are flippant. If Caroline knew you as you really are she would not love you."
"But you love me, in spite of all you know of me?"
She walked quickly but he quickened his pace. She broke into a run.
"You can't keep that up . . . not on these steep paths." He caught her arm.
"Please do not touch me."
"You have commanded too long." He laughed as she would have
wrenched herself free. "You see, it is of no use. If you struggle you will merely become exhausted, and here we are alone. You may call for help and who will come ? Your brave little bandit and the handsome second cousin are far away. And if they did hear you they would find it a different matter rescuing you from me than from the cliff path. You are at my mercy."
"You tell so many lies. ,,
"No. It is you who pretend. You cannot distinguish between what you want and what you think you ought to want. When I said: 'You are at my mercy!' your eyes sparkled at the thought. Do you think I don't understand! You could say then: 'It was not my fault!' What joy! To be forced to what you dare not do yet long to. What could be better? Shall I give you that satisfaction? I love you so much that I am greatly tempted to please you so."
"You say the most cruelly cynical things I have ever heard. I did not know there were people like you."
"How could you? How long have you been in the world? We don't haunt the Convent precincts hoping to seduce holy nuns."
He allowed her to escape and she began to walk on rapidly.
"I wish to be serious," he said, catching up with her and taking her arm. "We have so little opportunity to talk. I am going to London at the end of the week. Ah, that saddens you."
"No. It is a pleasure for me. It is the best news I have heard for a long time."
"The coward in you is delighted, but is that the true Melisande? No! I do not believe it. In reality you are sad. Now there is no need to be sad, only sensible. Tell me, what will you do when you get away from here?"
"That is my affair."
"Let us be sensible and make it mine too."
"I do not see how it can be yours."
"You need to be protected."
"I am able to protect myself."
"When I say you need a protector I use the word in the fashionable sense. You may protect yourself with your wits, but they will tell you that without help they cannot provide you with the necessities of life. For that you need a human protector."
"Please understand that I shall be my own protector."
"How? In the house of some disagreeable woman?"
"Are all women who employ governesses and companions disagreeable?"
"Most are—to their governesses and companions."
"Well, that appears to be my lot in the world and I must bear it."
"So you will be resigned to that state of life to which God has called you?"
"I must make it good."
"It will not be good. It is hateful for a girl of your spirit. It is so undignified. I wish I could marry you. Why weren't you Caroline and Caroline you ? How virtuous I should have been then! I should have been a model wooer. Goodness is a result of circumstances. Has that occurred to you ? I believe that if a marriage between us had been arranged I should have been a faithful husband."
"People become good by adjusting themselves to their circumstances, not by arranging the circumstances to suit themselves. That is the difference between good and bad surely."
"Now, Mademoiselle, you are not the Mother Superior of that Convent of yours, lecturing a miscreant. If the world does not suit me, I must make it suit me. Look, my dear, you are young and inexperienced; you have dogmatic ideas about life. I am being very serious now. Let me find a house for you where you can live discreetly. It shall be secure as a marriage. Everything you want in the world will be yours."